


The Sharp Edge of Truth

by jennyredpiper



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-19
Updated: 2011-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-18 09:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennyredpiper/pseuds/jennyredpiper





	1. Chapter 1

He knows that this is the moment in which he will lose her love forever. He can see it in her eyes, the moment when she realizes what has happened, what he must have done. The noise of the explosion is deafening, the resulting shock wave rolling out behind it almost knocking them to the ground. Her face goes through a myriad of emotions as a moment later the dark ash starts to softly drift down like black snow. The acrid smell of burning is everywhere. She stares at him, her eyes wide with horror and disbelief, as she tries to grip what she has just witnessed. All normal sounds are gone, replaced by a horrible pounding silence in his head that is followed by an excruciating ringing in his ears.

She screams at him across the distance "Anders, what have you done?" but he doesn't hear her voice as she says it, just sees the words as they are forced out of her mouth. She instantly doubles over coughing from the intake of dusty ash. Now he sees other emotions as they start to fly across her face, so fleeting in her world, but in his everything is slowed, he sees every one of them cross her face for what seems like an eternity. First the shock, then fear and despair, followed by betrayal and anger, each one in turn a dark cold knife that stabs into his heart with heavy agony. As the ash thickens, turning the sky from day to night, sound suddenly erupts back into his world. There are panicked shouts and screams all around, everything is turning into madness. The streets are full of people trying to flee from this horror, the wide empty eyes of the survivors staring at him as they push past.

He is responsible for this.

She walks up behind him, the rage and a horrifying realization at what she is contemplating waging a war in her mind for control. Tears are streaming down her cheeks now leaving trails in the ash that covers her face. Her hands shake as she reaches across to her left side with her right hand for the sword that is sheathed there. The metal makes a whispering sound, like that of a lover's lie, as she slowly pulls it free from the scabbard. Seated in front of her, Anders stiffens as he too hears the telltale slithering of her weapon being drawn. In his mind he can already feel the blade slicing through his neck,the thought making all the fine hairs on the back of his neck rise and he shivers in response. He lowers his head for the blow that he knows will inevitably come, that it will come from the one person he loves most in this world is somewhat ironic. _Is it better to_ _be executed by a loved one instead of an uncaring stranger?_ his mind thinks as it wildly tries to come to terms with what she must do. He pushes down hard against Justice as the spirit tries to claw his way to the forefront, to protect this body from harm.

He feels her place the sword lightly against his neck and his breathing becomes faster as she tries to make sure the arc of her swing will not go wide, to insure that he will not have to endure a second strike of the blade. His downcast eyes close as he shuts out the ruin of the courtyard. He desperately tries to bring up the memories of her in his mind, of their time together. A single tear falls down to the hard ground below as his heart rails against the cold choices he has made, the fateful decisions that have brought him here. He frantically tries again to picture her in his mind as he braces himself for the sharp edge that will sever his connection to this world.

Her hands are shaking horribly now as she tries to line up her strike. She presses the metal against his bare neck; this same neck that she has kissed so many times over these last years, her shaking grows worse overtaking the rest of her body. The others look on, their expressions ranging from horror to acceptance and everything in between, but no one steps forward to stop her. They all know that the mage has brought this punishment down onto himself by his own actions. She steels herself to deliver the final blow, her muscles fighting against what her mind is screaming for her to finish. She cannot.

The sword drops to the ground, the pommel sliding out of her sweating hands and striking the stone in a metallic clatter that echoes loudly over and over again in the sudden silence. For all that he has done, even in his betrayal of her, she cannot take his life. The others still do not say anything as she pulls him to his feet, the familiar feeling of magic passing between them as her hand touches his, but the shocked look in his eyes as he finally lifts his head and meets her gaze tells her that he expected to die this day by her hand.

Maker help her, he had tried to tell her. He had tried to warn her many times of what he was, what he could become. Looking back she knew now she had seen the signs in him lately but had tried to ignore them. His withdrawal from her, the hurt and sadness that he thought he was hiding behind his eyes as he deliberately made sure their previous closeness to each other faded. His growing paranoia, the dark clothes he now favored that were black as death. He had become a wraith of his former self. The Hawke of before shuts herself away from the Hawke she now has to become. She somehow has to find the strength to get through the coming night, to survive through the battle that she knows will soon follow. She will have to deal with this maelstrom of emotions when she has the luxury to do so; she has to have her mind clear for what is coming.

"Help me defend the mages" she says to Anders in a voice that is pure steel.

There are no excuses he can offer her, nothing he can do to change this situation so he just merely nods his head in agreement. He has no idea now what the future will hold for them, if she will be even able to look at him now without revulsion, if they even will both survive the coming battle. He steels himself as he says under his breath "One problem at a time, we will tend to the future when it is certain there is one to attend to" Hawke moves off to regroup before the battle and he follows after her, their love even though now twisted and tainted still binding them together.


	2. The Sharp Edge of Truth Chapter 2

_They are coming._

The sounds are still faint, but she knows that what she hears are soldiers equipped in full battle armor marching towards them, what must be hundreds of them, inexorably drawing closer with every ringing step. From the nervous expressions of those around her she knows she is not the only one that realizes what is coming. There are pitiful few of them here, defending this place. They had hastily regrouped and most did not have time to retrieve their armor, having to make do instead with what they could find at hand. Many of the mages present also had never been allowed to unleash their arcane talents to their full extent; they have never known the feeling of being unfettered in their magic. As she looks around at the companions that surround her she can see by their expressions that they too are not unaware of what this portends. She glances back quickly to Anders, but he is too far away from the group to gauge his expression, nor does she have the strength within herself to attempt it.

Anders sees her as she glances back at him. He wants so badly to be next to her, to have her wrap her arms around him and tell him that she still loves him, that she will forgive him. The anguish of it overwhelms him for a moment. He almost feels as if he _had_ died back there in the courtyard, that his head _had_ been struck from his body and that all feeling had been struck with it, leaving him with an emptiness, a black abyss that stares back at him through his own hollow eyes. The pain of it is intense, knocking the breath out of him like a physical blow, and for a moment he almost collapses to his knees before he manages to pull the protective mantle of Justice back around his damaged soul.

 _They are coming_.

She can hear the sounds of fighting outside, the clash of metal on metal, the shouts of the defenders trying desperately to hold the line, the screams as they are cut down.

 _They are here_.

The archers behind her take aim and a torrent of arrows fly past above her, striking down some of the advancing soldiers, but more step up to take their place. Their pace is steady, unyielding. She does not think she will live to see the sunrise.

He watches as the templars close in on her group, frantically trying to see her through the chaos of the fighting. Above all things, he has to keep her safe. He desperately prepares a spell, weaving it through his mind and body, casting the power of it out through his fingertips. He sees the area to the right of Hawke explode into flame as she neatly jumps back to avoid the residual impact. The screams of his victims are abruptly cut off as the overpowering odor of burning flesh adds itself to the already pungent miasma of the battleground.

The fighting is all around her now, the noise is deafening in the close quarters, the screams of the attackers and the agonized cries of the wounded making her ears ring and her head pound. The stone floor is slippery with blood beneath her booted feet, the straw that they had hastily strewn before the battle quickly reaching the limit of what it would absorb. A form lunges at her from the chaos, and she instinctively brings her sword up and across the body, ripping open a red line that cuts through skin and muscle. The blood sprays into her face as she tries to protect her eyes and for a second she is helpless and blinded. She hears another behind her and pivoting around half-swords her weapon, slamming the pommel into the space that she hopes her enemies face is occupying. She is rewarded by a sickly crunch as the metal connects with flesh and then bone. He looks at her in horror, the hit transforming his mouth into a bloody jumble of tissue and teeth, as he falls to his knees. Reaching for the grip she turns her sword back upright and thrusts downward sliding the point through his shoulder and out through the spine. More blood sprays onto her already soaked armor making the grip of her sword slippery with sweat and blood. She cannot keep this up, every time she swings her sword, every new cut she receives, it robs her of more strength. The others around her still standing are as exhausted. The templar numbers are decreasing, but not fast enough. They cannot stand against the onslaught much longer. She risks a glance back to the corner where she knows Anders is standing, far enough back from the melee so he can cast uninterrupted in safety, but still able to cause heavy damage in the battle. She knows deep inside that she still loves him as their gazes meet for the merest fraction of a second. Time slows as blue green eyes lock onto brown as she tries to convey this to him in their last moments.

He feels Justice surging to the forefront as he catches a glance of her. She is bleeding freely from more cuts than he can count, her normally pale skin a frightening two shades lighter than it should be. She finds his gaze for just a moment before she stumbles forward from an attack and lands hard on her sword hand, he can hear the crack of bone from here as she throws back her head and screams. He matches her cry with one of cold terror and Justice claws his way up from the black emptiness to join the battle. The blue glow in his eyes quickly spreads to the rest of his body enveloping him in a cold deadly aura of retribution. The light is blinding now in its need to escape and the agony as it tries to is excruciating. He opens his mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. The twisted spell his tortured mind creates pushes away from him and explodes into the battle, the resulting blinding flash of light and shock wave of sound making everything go fuzzy and white. The recoil of the rebounding spell slams his body into the far wall and he slowly slides down onto the floor. Everything is still and deathly quiet. Hawke and her companions are the first to recover and they quickly take advantage of the vulnerability of their remaining enemies dispatching them to the fade with cold efficiency.

She looks to where Anders should be and does not see him. Her eyes cast frantically around the chamber until she spots him against the wall where he has fallen. "Oh maker, please let him still be alive" she pleads as she ignores her injuries and manages a half limping run over to his prone form. He is as still as death and her mind screams at her that he is already gone. She half falls onto the ground beside him as she reaches his side and gathers him up in her arms. "You are not going to break my heart for a second time, you bastard" she screams at him as the tears mix with the blood that is plastered on her face. The other gather around, not knowing what to say to her in her grief, their downcast faces turned away as she rocks him in her arms as one would a sleeping child. "You are not allowed to leave me" she screams at him again, but still he will not answer her. With her head resting on his chest she doesn't see the blue glow as it slowly starts to engulf his body, but she hears the faint words as a voice, maker help her, his familiar voice whispers weakly into the silence "I promise I'll never break your heart again"


	3. The Sharp Edge of Truth Chapter 3

_We have to flee._

The desperate pleas of her mind try to reach past the pain that is all around her, that is invading every corner of her body. The thought stabs at her again, but her battered and beaten frame will not obey it. She leans gratefully against the cool stone of the wall in a half sitting, half sprawling position and closes her eyes for just a moment. Her hold tightens on the warm hand that is resting in her own, and she absently moves her thumb up slightly to rest over his radial artery, as if to reassure herself that his heart is still beating, that he is still here beside her.

She hates herself for thinking it, but in some small part of her mind she desperately wishes that he had died on that cold and dirty floor, so that perhaps her pain could have died there as well. In the dark silence of her own mind she realizes that there will be no future here now, that her life in Kirkwall as she has known it these past few years is over. She had watched it die, had seen the raw truth of it in his eyes in those first few moments after the explosion.

She slowly resurfaces to the present as she hears the slight rustle of movement and the soft soothing words of the nearby mages that are healing the wounded. She glances over at Anders to see that he is pale and shaking, but awake. He lowers his head to his chest in exhaustion, and his blond hair completely slips out of its restraint and tumbles over his eyes. There is a healer next to him now, accessing his injuries. From where Hawke is sitting she can only see the abrasions and bruises that he received from his impact with the stone wall, but she knows from her experience in battle that the more dangerous injuries are hiding out of sight inside of him. She hears the sharp hissing intake of his breath as the mage moves him slightly and a thin trickle of dark red blood runs from the corner of his mouth.

The pain is intense, red hot needles of it that stab into his body. He senses more than sees the healer as he kneels down beside him. He knows he is bleeding inside, he can feel the blood as it wells up in the back of his throat making him want to gag with the sensation of it. He has never been so badly injured before and it scares him. The first tendrils of the healing magic curl around his body making him gasp. He has experienced this sensation many times before, but never has it felt so invasive. His body starts reworking itself from the inside out, bones knitting themselves back into place, the blood flowing back into his damaged organs as they are correctly positioned again. The crawling, itching sensation that accompanies this makes him want to scream. He feels the pressure on his hand increase and he tries to concentrate on the fact that Hawke is sitting next to him holding his hand. The pain slowly starts to subside leaving him feeling exhausted and shaking. The healer leaves his side assuring him that he will heal completely in time.

It is Hawke's turn now as the mage moves on to her. She is almost glad that it is not Anders who will be healing her. The healer holds onto her damaged hand firmly as she instinctively recoils from the touch trying to rip it away from his grasp, to protectively thrust it under her good arm. She knows he is only trying to help her and she tries to make her mind go blank to escape from the pain. The healing power as it touches her is warm, but she still experiences the same horrible itching sensations that Anders has just gone through. It feels like there are a hundreds of worms crawling underneath her skin pushing and prodding her bones and flesh back together. She bites back the scream that is trying to escape from the back of her throat. The healer quickly finishes with her hand and moves on to the assortment of cuts and punctures on the rest her body healing them to mere bruises and scars in a matter of minutes.

Anders watches out of the corner of his eye as the healer busies himself with Hawke, relief flooding him as he watches the pain withdraw from her eyes. She relaxes into a more comfortable sitting position as the healing mage leans in to softly ask her something. Anders cannot hear what is being said but sees Hawke nod her head in assent as the mage prepares to move on. "We have to leave soon" she says to Anders as she lets out a great sigh of relief that the worst is over for now. "It will not be long before they send in trackers to come after us, and we are sitting ducks if we stay here" she continues. He nods his head in agreement.

The time has come to leave Kirkwall.


	4. The Sharp Edge of Truth Chapter 4

They are starting to burn the dead. Even the sweet herbs that are added to the fires cannot disguise the sickly sweet odor that assails them as she and Anders emerge from the interior darkness of the circle. Hawke lifts her left hand to shade her eyes as they walk out into the gallows courtyard, the new sun as it rises, glinting painfully off the grotesque statues the Tevinters had placed there so long ago. As word spreads of the battle the townspeople come searching for their loved ones, hoping that their son or daughter, husband or wife had been spared in the fighting but there will be more shocked grieving here today than joyous reunions.

Her remaining companions follow quietly behind her as she looks over the rows of dead for those who are still missing. It is a daunting task as there are hundreds of bodies being carried out into the dawn, this new day that so many of their numbers had not lived to see. Hawke has not seen her sister since the fighting started, and she bites down panic every time she sees a dark haired mage laying there half shrouded in the courtyard, fearing that it will be Bethany. She does not know what she will do if fate has been cruel enough to take yet another family member from her.

Varric had been easy enough to find, they had come upon him pleading with a mage to magically mend a wicked looking gash in Bianca in much the same way a parent would plead for medical treatment of their child. He looked almost close to tears as the healer turned him away.

"We need to find the others and quickly gather what supplies we can" she told him as he rejoined their party.

They found Aveline next, the flame red hair being easy to spot in the crowd of survivors. Hawke was glad to see that Donnic was beside her, it would have been cruel fate indeed if her friend had to endure the loss of another husband to the enemy's sword, just when she was beginning to find happiness again.

Fenris had departed before the final battle, the disgust on his face clearly evident when Hawke vowed she would help defend the mages. She did not blame him for leaving, he had suffered so much at the hands of mages, and she hoped that wherever he would go next he would find some sort of closure for the heavy scars he carried in his heart. They cannot find Merrill in the growing confusion of the crowd, but Anders is certain he had seen the petite elf after the battle among the mages that were healing the wounded.

Hawke forces herself to move closer to the intensely burning pyres, and reluctantly she turns her eyes to the pile of bodies there. She knows deep down that if her sister is indeed among the dead, she may never get to say a final goodbye. There are so many of the fallen, there is no other choice except to cremate them all like this. She glances back at Anders where he stands, pale and withdrawn at the back of their small group,his eyes desperately trying not to take in all the carnage that surrounds them. For a moment she is all too aware of the fact that he had come so close to being tossed on this pile with all the other dead, that she had come so very close to losing him. She winces as a little voice inside her mind sneers _It would serve him right, all this is of his making._ She wonders if this is what it felt like for Anders when he took Justice into his soul.

There seemed to be two parts of her now, as if love and hate had been sundered in half the moment the realization of what he had done had dawned on her. The two halves of her tortured mind vacillating between wanting to run into his warm embrace one moment and an almost uncontrollable urge to plunge her sword into his lying heart the next. She shakes the thought off as she tries to focus on what has to be done. They are wasting time here. If Bethany is still alive, hopefully she can get word to her somehow, but they need to leave Kirkwall now if she is to get Anders and the rest of her party to safety before more Templars come looking to avenge their Commander. She wonders if this new nightmare will ever end, if in her choice to stand by him she has condemned herself to wandering without a home for the rest of her life. She fervently hopes it will not be so.


	5. The Sharp Edge of Truth Chapter 5

" _Bethany."_ The voice as it drifts to his ears is so full of sadness and helplessness that Anders cannot believe at first that it belongs to Hawke. He tears his tortured gaze away from the rows of the dead to catch sight of her approaching the blazing fires in search of her sister. _Oh Maker, please let her find Bethany alive._ The thought has been spinning around and around in his head in a giant loop for the last hour now, every revolution of it squeezing the panic tighter and tighter until his mind is almost suffocating with the guilt of it.

This had all seemed like such a good plan at the time, a plan that would make everyone sit up and take notice of the plight of the mages. He had grown so tired of the rounds of bickering between the Knight Commander and the First Enchanter. Every time it had the same results. The two would lock horns, eventually involving the Grand Cleric, who would placate them with promises of compromise, until either Meredith or Orsino would reluctantly back down. They would then return to their wary truce until the next time one faction or the other would upset the delicate balance thus restarting the whole cycle over again.

He had tried so hard these past few years to put the whole situation involving the mages in the background, instead trying to focus on Hawke and the joy he felt whenever he was with her. He had never met anyone before that could engender these intense feelings of love and belonging in him as she could. It was an unnerving feeling at first, as he had never exposed his heart like this, instead finding it was so much easier to live behind an acerbic mask of jaded cockiness. He had learned long ago that, in love, there came a weakness that could somehow always be used against him.

During this last year though, no matter how much he tried he could not push down the increasing bitterness he felt at the intensifying maltreatment of the mages, until he was simply beyond the point of not being able to endure it any longer. If there was ever to be change, the chain reaction of it had to be set off with an action the world could not back down from. He had been willing to sacrifice his life for this change to come about, but in his idealistic fervor he had never stopped to think of what the consequences of his actions would mean for Hawke, that in other's eyes she would be painted by the same brush of guilt even though he had been so careful to not tell her of his plans.

He looks up as she moves away from the fire and glances back in his direction, his heart somersaulting as she catches his gaze and returns it with one of concern, but this look only lasts a moment before it is replaced by a hateful bitterness that he glimpses in her eyes in the moment before she turns from him and starts to walk away. His heart sinks as he realizes that she will probably never forgive him for this, in all honesty, that he does not deserve her forgiveness.

As she strides ahead he hears her steel edged voice drift back to him as she addresses the group. "We are wasting time. If we are to leave Kirkwall it has to be now, we cannot delay here any longer no matter what the cost." He can't stand it. He has to try to talk to her, to at least try to tell her how sorry he is. As he catches up to her he manages to blurt out "My love, I'm so sorry" before the resounding crack of her slap lands hard against his face. "Anders, don't do this!" she growls at him, the hate barely contained in her voice. "There is NOTHING you can say, NOTHING you can do that will make this better. Please, don't do this to me right now" With horror he can now see a deep engulfing sadness in her eyes as she tries desperately to hold back the tears, but before he can react, she whirls away from him and resumes her furious pace out of the Gallows and into Lowtown.


	6. The Sharp Edge of Truth Chapter 6

The horrifying déjà vu of the situation dawns on her as she strides out of the Gallows courtyard, her numbed mind reminding her of the promise she had made so long ago to herself that she would never again flee from her home. Her hands tighten into fists that want to strike out as she thinks of the reason why she is being forced to flee. He is back there following after her, like a damn sheepdog that in a fit of insanity has driven a whole flock over a cliff to their deaths, but still comes back with tucked tail and a hopeful gaze that he will somehow be forgiven. Forgiveness is the last thing on her mind right now. She has to focus on getting out of Kirkwall alive.

She realizes as they make their way through the narrow streets of Lowtown that this will probably be the last time that her eyes will take in these sights that have become so familiar to her over these last years. More tears well up at that thought and she quickly brushes them away with the back of a bruised and filthy hand. She will not let him see her cry. She feels as if she is lost in a horribly familiar nightmare, that her world has once again been turned upside-down and submerged under ice cold water and she is drowning in the chaos of it. Everything that was once familiar to her now distorted and altered almost beyond recognition into a twisted and painful version of reality.

She tries to turn her mind down a more useful path ,setting it to the task of making mental lists of what they can quickly grab that will be easy to carry and will benefit them most on the road. Up ahead she sees Templars running towards the Gallows and she quickly cuts through a shadowed alley and over two side streets before coming back to the main road. They have to get to the estate without being seen. If they are forced to leave without any supplies they are as good as dead. She glances back at her companions, making sure they are still keeping up with her as she forces her burning leg muscles into a jolting unbalanced run, desperation giving her body the adrenaline it needs to keep going.

As they pass by the Hanged Man, her thoughts turn momentarily to Isabella, that her twin blades and sharp tongue would be a most welcome addition right now, but they had lost her long ago in her betrayal and sudden departure over the Qunari relic, yet another choice that can never be undone.

The steps up into Hightown are packed with throngs of well dressed citizens desperately trying to get back to the security of doors that lock and gates that can be barred against this onslaught of madness and Hawke's group only manages to stay together by pushing their way through the sea of people. It seems to take forever to force their way up the hundreds of steps to her estate and all of them are at the end of their borrowed energy as they finally race into the Amell courtyard. "Bodahn" she tries to scream the name as she slams back the heavy oak door, but the dryness of her mouth will only allow it to leave as a raspy shout.

"Serrah, what is happening out there?" she hears the older dwarf call back to her. "We heard the explosion and all the shouting so the boy and I hid in the cellar" he continues as he and Sandal come to the top of the basement stairs.

"Bodahn, there is no time to go into details. We need to quickly gather some supplies and leave Kirkwall" Hawke's voice drifts back to them as she races up the stairs to the bedroom that she and Anders have shared these last years to hastily throw a bundle of clothes and money together.

"Varric, go into the kitchen and gather up as much food as you possibly can, we will need it" she shouts from the second floor. "And Maker be quick about it, we won't have much time before the reinforcements come looking for us here"

It takes Hawke only a few moments to grab some belongings and race back to the bedroom door, but she turns back for one last look before she leaves, remembering that first night that Anders had walked through this same doorway and claimed her heart. The memory seems to belong to a different lifetime. She allows a few tears to escape down her cheeks as she imagines a happier future that will never take place now. She hears the faint creak of a floorboard behind her and whirls around to find Anders in the doorway. He doesn't say anything, just gently reaches out to wipe the tears from her cheek. His hand barely reaches her face though before she recoils from his touch and pushes past him to run down the stairs. After a moment he slowly turns and follows her down, blinking back the tears now forming in his own eyes, as he too thinks of everything they have lost to gain this freedom.


	7. The Sharp Edge of Truth Chapter 7

As he reaches the foot of the stairs, Anders momentarly thinks of just walking out of the front door and unleashing Justice on the first group of Templars he can find, at least the certain death that would follow would obliterate this horrible ache in his heart. Maybe it would be better for all involved if he separated himself from the rest of the group. If that is to be his choice though, he knows cannot go without trying to explain to Hawke one more time why he had to do what he did. He finds her in the kitchen with Varric. Her back is to them both as she busies herself in the massive walk in pantry gathering food to take with them. Already several large knapsacks are filled to capacity on the nearby table. Anders walks quietly up to the dwarf and in a low voice so Hawke won't hear them, pleads "Please Varric, let me have a moment alone with her" The narrowed gaze Varric focuses on the mage says what is really in the dwarf's mind, but he just curtly nods his head and leaves the room without a word.

Anders walks into the pantry and closes the door gently behind him. "Varric, don't shut the door, I can't see what I'm doing now" Hawke throws over her shoulder, assuming it is the dwarf standing there as she grabs a jar and places it in the pack at her feet. She instantly stiffens as she feels familiar arms wrap around her in the semi darkness. "You're not Varric" she growls, stating the obvious, as Anders leans in to say near her ear "Please my love, please hear me out. I know there are no excuses I can give you. I'm so sorry that you have been dragged into this, it was not your fight" his breath on the side of her neck is warm and just for a moment in the half darkness she wishes she could pretend all this had never happened and they are once again in love and in their bedroom upstairs. He takes her silence and the fact that she has not elbowed him in the ribs yet as a sign he should continue. "Maybe it would be better if I stayed here when you leave, to wait for the Templars to come in search of us. My death could buy you the time you need to get away and hopefully once they have sated their revenge on me, they won't come looking for you." She does elbow him in the ribs for this statement, and as she whirls around he sees the anger burning in her eyes. "NO!" she forces out through clenched teeth. "How dare you, I did not risk my life for you in that damn fight only to have you throw yours away now. It almost killed me when I saw you laying there on the floor, thinking that you were already dead. NO!" she repeats, this time with more force. "You promised me back there that you would never break my heart again, and you are going to keep that promise you bastard"

She moves forward several inches until she is standing right in front of him, the final reserve of her strength suddenly draining from her. "You are going to keep your promise." she faintly repeats. He groans with the nearness of her and suddenly his mouth is on hers as all the pent up emotions over the last twenty four hours come rising up in both of them like a torrential flood. In that moment they do not care that the Templars are probably almost to their door, that they are both still covered in the blood and gore of battle, as they shed what clothes are necessary and he frantically pushes her up against the wall, sending the contents of the nearby shelves crashing to the floor, desperate now in his need to belong to her. "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU FOR WHAT YOU DID!" she screams at him but still she wraps her arms and legs tightly around him. They are riding on an overload of emotions now as all the fear, anguish, love and hate combines into a wave of brutal remorseless passion between them. His brown eyes for a moment flaming to blue as his release burns through his body and into hers.


	8. The Sharp Edge of Truth Chapter 8

They stay that way for a moment, entwined around each other in the darkness. Their exhaustion is complete now, there is no reserve left to draw from as they both wearily rest their heads on each other shoulders, each of them unwilling, for the moment, to leave this dark sanctuary that is providing them temporary shelter from the accusations and recriminations they know will await them both beyond these walls.

She knows she cannot forgive him this easily, that once they leave this place her mind will start fighting again with her heart and they both will be caught up in the battle of it. She tries desperately to save this memory, to tuck it safely away in the back of her mind. As she closes her eyes she concentrates on how warm his body is as he presses up against her, the smell that is uniquely him, the way the black feathers on his pauldrons tickle her nose as her head lays on his shoulder, his soft breathing in her ear as he buries his face in her hair, taking in the scent of her.

Their reverie is suddenly shattered as a thunderous pounding starts on the closed door to the pantry and instantly they push away from each other and grab their weapons from the floor nearby, tensing for the rush of Templars that their minds are imagining on the other side of the door.

"Hawke, are you ok in there?" A concerned but muffled voice calls through the thick wood.

They both relax slightly as they recognize the voice as Varric's. "I will kill him myself if that damn mage is upsetting you. Hawke sees the quick look of pain in Anders' eyes as his mind registers the fact that he has lost the privilege of his special nickname from the dwarf.

"I'm fine, just give us a minute more please" Hawke answers as both she and Anders fumble for the rest of their hastily discarded items. They just finish with the last buckle on Hawke's greaves as the heavy door thumps back in its frame. "Andraste's ass what the hell is going on in here?" Varric shouts as he looks down at all of the broken jars and ruined food on the floor and then glances up to take in the slightly guilty look on both of their faces.

"Hawke, you can finish killing him later, we need to go now!"

"I think we should stay here until nightfall" she counters. The dwarves eyes grow wide as he fires back at her "Are you insane, Hawke? The Templars will come looking for us here and although Bianca is always itching for someone to shoot we can't fight them all off"

"No, no insanity today, but ask me that again in a month, I might have a different answer by then"she replies only half joking as she starts pacing around the kitchen, a faint wisp of an idea starting to grow in her head. "Anders, do you still have that key I gave you to the passage beneath the house?"

"Yes, of course" His fingers slip into the pouch at his side and he pulls out the small key. This idea just might work, she thinks to herself. "Bring everything down to the cellars; we are going to wait in that passageway until things have quieted down a bit.

They quickly gather what they can from the house, starting with the big packs of food in the kitchen, adding to it the spare potions and healing poultices Anders had ready for the darktown clinic in his workshop upstairs and a small knapsack of clothes and personal effects Hawke had previously gathered from the bedroom and carry everything down to the secret passageway beneath the house. They have managed all of this in under an hour and still there are no signs of an impending Templar attack. Hawke knows in the mass confusion after the battle there will be delays to regroup but that soon more soldiers will be following their trail to the estate.

They depart to the cellars to await the moment that they will be forced into the passageway, leaving the front door of the estate ajar and quickly giving the main rooms a look of being rifled through in a desperate attempt at subterfuge before they go, hoping that when the Templars finally do arrive they will think that the estate has already been abandoned in their haste to flee Kirkwall and the looters have already begun their work.

Now that the necessities of survival have been secured and they are in the relative safety of the cellar, everyone turns their mind to cleaning up a bit from the battle, having brought a large wooden bucket of well water with them when they retreated to their hiding place for that very purpose. Each of them dampening a large cloth in the bucket and then moving off in a separate direction for a measure of privacy. Aveline and Donnic head around the corner behind a huge wine rack, filled with every dinner and dessert wine imaginable. A clean change of clothes for each of them, provided by Hawke, are slung over their shoulders. They are holding hands and talking softly to each other as they go and for a moment Hawke envies them that closeness before she turns back to the task at hand.

Bodahn had thankfully provided a change of clothes for Varric, although Varric had been complaining loudly to anyone that would listen that his chest hair seemed quite confined in this new shirt, until the problem was quickly solved with a sharp dagger and a thin length of leather.

Hawke wanders off in the other direction, with Anders following behind, and stops behind a large pile of wooden boxes that partially hide them from the others. They quickly strip off their torn and stained clothing to expose a multitude of welts and bruises across both of their bodies, all that remains of their injuries after the battle. As she scrubs at the blood and grime with the wet cloth, wincing slightly as she passes over the deeper bruises, she notices that Anders is definitely not thinking of mere survival as he watches her out of the corner of his eye. She tries to ignore him as she continues her meager ablutions, but she can't as he quickly strides over and gently cups the side of her face in his hand, in almost the same gentle way he had that night when they had first become lovers. "I do love you so very much Hawke" he whispers as his eyes meet hers. He is just parting those full lips to kiss her, and she is almost just to the point where she will let him, when they suddenly hear the entry door far above slam back violently on its hinges as raised voices faintly echo down to them.


	9. The Sharp Edge of Truth Chapter 9

His embrace instantly changes to a protective stance, as he instinctively tries to shield her from this new unknown threat. They hear the footsteps above them and as their eyes automatically turn upward towards the sound they can see the dust and dirt trickle from the undersides of the floorboards coinciding with the vibrations from the movements up above. Although they can tell there are many pairs of feet, the noise that drifts down to them does not sound like the heavy tread that would belong to fully armored men. It isn't until Anders hears the splintering of wood and a crash as though something fragile and heavy had been tipped over and allowed to break on the hard wood floor that his growing suspicions crystallize into certainty.

 _Looters..._

His mind at first welcomes the fact, as it will add more believability to the ruse they had laid out for the Templars to discover. It is only when his gaze shifts back to Hawke's face,and he sees the horrified look in her eyes, that he belatedly realizes what effect this is having on her.

Her hand falls naturally to where her sword should be as her mind suddenly understands what is happening upstairs. She does not need to see the scene unfolding to know that the vermin from the underbelly of Kirkwall have taken advantage of this situation to make a profit for themselves. They are up there right now pawing through her belongings, taking the small items they can sell and destroying anything else that doesn't have value to them. Items she and Anders had given each other over the years, silly trinkets that held sentimental value, the possessions that had belonged to her mother, the only things that are left of her now. All of these things will soon be gone.

She had known in the back of her mind that this would happen when she agreed to leave with Anders, but at that point it had been a distant event that she assumed would happen after they had already departed the city. To have to helplessly stay down here and listen as her home is destroyed above is nerve-racking, but there is nothing she can do. It would be risking the safety of the others if she succumbed to the urge to race upstairs and confront the thieves. She is startled back to the here and now by a gentle hand on her neck and as she glances up at Anders she sees his warm brown eyes fill with understanding.

He knows what it is like to have everything familiar taken away. He can still vividly remember the day the Templars came to his family's house to drag him away from everything he knew, his belongings, his family, his whole life.

"Stay with me my love nothing can be gained by going back up there now" he softly says to her as he brings his hand up to rest warmly against the back of her neck.

The sounds are intensifying upstairs as more arrive to fight over her possessions. Hawke shakes her head to clear it of the mental image and tries to refocus her energy on what is more important right now.

"They might venture down here, we need to move everyone into the passageway" she throws back over her shoulder as she quickly grabs the clean clothes that are laying over the top of one of the boxes and throws them on as she watches Anders do the same. Now fully dressed, Hawke gathers her tarnished and stained armor from the floor and quietly places it in large bag thinking to herself as she does so that she will need to clean it soon before the blood starts to oxidize on the metal and rust sets in. She sees the hated black mages robe nearby on the floor where Anders had thrown it when they had stripped out of their filthy clothes from the battle and she grabs it and stuffs it in the bag with the armor intent on burning it the first chance she gets.

Making her way over to the concealed door in the far wall she takes out the small key and places it in the lock, instantly hearing the click of the tumblers as they move into the correct position allowing the door to swing open into the darkness beyond.

"Anders" she calls softly to him "Can you go ahead and light the way?"

He quickly recites the needed spell and his staff flares with a soft white light as he walks ahead into the passage. Hawke glances behind her to see the others quickly approaching as the sounds from above grow louder. She is the last to enter the space as she stays in the doorway waiting to make sure everyone is safely in before she lets the door close behind her.

He hears the door as it swiftly shuts with a soft click and almost instantly the hated feeling of being trapped floods his mind. He tries to concentrates on the warm glow of the light as he feels his heart rate speed up in response to the signals of fear from his mind, but the light suddenly flickers and extinguishes as the concentration needed to maintain the spell slips away from him. The irrational fear in him quickly grows in the sudden darkness until it completely fills his mind. He hears shuffling off to his immediate right and suddenly someone grabs hold of his arm in the darkness eliciting a sharp stifled yelp from the mage.

"Anders, are you ok?" A disembodied but familiar voice whispers out to him as he feels her other hand reaching out for him in the darkness, but without the ability of sight, her perception is off and instead of placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder she inadvertently smacks him squarely on the nose instead.

"Owww" his somewhat muffled response comes out of the darkness, the light flaring back into existence as the fear loses its grip on his mind and his concentration returns.

"Sorry" Hawke replies,barely managing to keep the proper expression for apologizing on her face, as all of her suppressed stress bubbles to the surface in the form of a small nervous bark of laughter.

"I think I'm maimed for life" Anders continues as he cradles his nose in his hands. She is just about to respond when she hears a flurry of movement from up above like many pairs of feet running towards the back door. There is only a second of brief silence before that noise is almost instantly followed by the heavier sound of what can only be the tread of many pairs of booted feet echoing sharply down from the entryway of the estate.


	10. The Sharp Edge of Truth Chapter 10

Everyone's movement ceases in the passageway as all eyes instantly swivel up to the rough ceiling, as if by intently watching the point where the sound is filtering down from, they will somehow gain a modicum of control over the situation. The warm white light coming from Anders' staff suddenly winks out again, but this time at the behest of its creator. Hawke feels his hand reach out for hers in the darkness and the warmth as it entwines around her own gives her a small temporary feeling of safety. Her other hand automatically drops to the hilt of her sword, but she does not unsheathe it knowing full well that any noise, however small, could give them away.

"Damn looters, they're almost as bad as the mages" an angry voice shouts from above." Too bad we don't have orders to kill them as well."

As the owner of the new voice steps into the house from the entryway, all movement above instantly stops. "If I can offer the head of that blonde apostate as a gift to whomever the Knight Commander's replacement is, then I bet I'll be promoted ,and not even that mage's whore,the so called Champion of Kirkwall will stand in my way of that chance." The unknown voice spits out Hawke's former title with loathing.

"Search the entire house, I've already lost my prize of the Champion's sister when she managed to escape, I'll not easily part with this one too. "

Her ears barely receive the words drifting down between the small cracks in the floorboards before her grip tightens painfully around Anders' hand and the hilt of her sword as her mind frantically tries to assimilate the statement she has just heard. _Bethany! Thank the maker, this means she's alive,_ the thought explodes through her head. She forces the hand gripping the hilt of her sword to unclench and fly up from her side to tightly cover her mouth in a desperate attempt to stifle the relived sob that is trying to escape from the back of her throat, as her legs start to give out from under her and she sinks to the dirt floor.

Strong arms wrap around to catch her as she falls and Anders slowly and silently lowers both of them to the ground. He can feel the intense shuddering of her body as she fiercely pushes her face against his chest, desperately trying to smother her sobs into the fabric of his old robe before the sound can drift up though the floorboards, her hot tears quickly soaking into the cloth as he holds her. He lowers his lips to the top of her head to place a gentle kiss there, freeing one of his hands from her tight embrace as he does so, to stroke her hair in a soothing repetitive motion to quiet her in the same way one might comfort a child suddenly waking from a nightmare.

 _She is already awake for this_ _nightmare_ the thought rises suddenly and unbidden in the back of his mind.

 _You are the reason she thought her_ _sister dead_.

The persistent thought grows stronger but he is unsure if it is Justice or his own inner voice that is doing the condemning.

The sounds from above start to intensify as the men spread out in their search of the estate and for the second time in one day Hawke is forced to endear the helpless feeling of having to hide down below while she listens to her home being destroyed above. A small part of her keenly mourns the loss, and these new tears now intermingle with the ones already streaming down her face. Her silent sobbing eventually tapers off as the following numbness slowly starts to set in.

She is vaguely aware of the passage of time. The minute rays of light that faintly drift through the narrow slats of the floor above start to lengthen as the afternoon wears into early evening. The noise above grows fainter as the Templars start to search the upper floors and the exhaustion of the day begins to pull at the corners of her eyes as she reclines back into the warmness of the mage's body. The back of her head rests against his chest, as she absently listens to the sound of his breathing and feels the steady heartbeat that thrums against her back. She leans further back against him and allows her eyes to briefly close as warm arms wrap around her protectively.

* * *

She hears voices, many voices raised in anger as she tries to focus her vision on what is happening, but she cannot seem to shake this warm fug that has descended on her brain. It slows her and in her mind it seems to take forever for her right hand to move to her side as she fumbles for the grip of her sword. The sharp sound of splintering wood fills the enclosed space and is followed closely by a guttural cry cut abruptly short from the same direction. She frantically tries to open her eyes wide, to take in this threat, but still everything seems unfocused and blurry. Her mind races through the choices of what might have happened, desperately trying to find a logical reason in answer to her growing panic.

She realizes she is crouched on the ground as her eyes try to focus in on a face that suddenly appears out of the blurry foreground. Almost as if in answer to her unspoken questions a voice joins the hidden visage.

"Sorry princess, business is business after all"

She recognizes that voice.

 _Varric?_

The panic explodes as her mind instantly tries to reject this thought. She tries to see where the splintering sound is coming from and horror overtakes her face as she finally focuses on a group of armed Templars that are rushing through the now open doorway. The metal of their drawn swords shine brightly and she can clearly see one of the soldiers as he swings his sword downward in a powerful stroke to parry a strike from Aveline. The force of the blow knocks her friend back and as she starts to fall the Templar steps forward to complete the movement, his sword sliding easily through Aveline's torso spraying an arc of dark red blood into the air. Hawke tries to scream, as the Templar pulls his sword free and Aveline slowly falls to the floor,but the sound that comes from her constricting throat only comes out as a horse cry. She sees Donnic on the ground, the blood already pooling around his still form and she realizes belatedly that the guttural cry that she had heard before must have belonged to him. Her growing horror only increases as she helplessly watches as both Bodahn and Sandal are effortlessly cut down where they stand, trying to defend themselves.

She frantically scans the room searching for Anders and time seems to slow even further as she locates him in the far corner of the room, eyes blazing blue as he screams his defiance of the hated Templars. The spell he unleashes knocks her to the ground, but she still hears his anguished scream, like that of a wounded animal, as the brute force of the remaining soldiers overpower him, catching him in the brief moment that it takes to cast again. She closes her eyes as they start to unfocus again and only hears the soldiers as they walk over to where she is lying stunned on the ground. "Bitch, we're going to have a little fun with you before we send you to the Maker" a voice snarls at her as she feels rough hands pin her down to the floor. She tries to scream again, but a blood covered hand clamps down hard over her mouth making her want to retch from the pungent copper smell as she fights for breath.

* * *

"HAWKE!" the insistent whisper comes out of the darkness as her panicked mind tries to take in her surroundings. The hand is still clamped over her mouth, but it isn't covered in blood anymore and it now somehow seems less threatening. "I'm going to take my hand away, but you have to promise not to scream. Can you do that?" the voice whispers close to her ear now. As she tries to nod her head she realizes that she recognizes this voice as well.

"Anders?" she whispers back as he slowly takes his hand away.

She feels him nod his head in response behind her. "You were having a dream, a nightmare. When you started to cry out in your sleep I had to silence you so they wouldn't hear it"

"Makers breath, a dream? It all felt so real" her shocked and shaking voice whispers back to him as she takes in a huge shuddering gulp of air.

"It seems like they are finishing up their search of the house. They came down to the basement to look around, but they didn't stay long. That's why I had to silence you; they were almost on the other side of the wall when you tried to cry out."

"Oh Maker, I almost got us all killed" she replies in a still shaky voice.

"Don't worry; it seems to be happening a lot today. I've already done it once myself, and the night is still young" he lamely jokes, trying to ease the haunted look that has now appeared in her eyes, but only succeeding in making the corners of her mouth turn up into a half smile for a second before falling back into a pained grimace.

She takes in another huge breath of air. "We should wait another hour, to make sure they are really gone before we try to leave, but we all need to decide which direction we should take after we get out of town. Hopefully we will choose the same one that Bethany has."


End file.
